


Most Grievous Fault

by raswillobsession (argentconflagration)



Category: Warlock (TV 2018-2025)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Consent Issues, Episode: s03e02 Inquisition, M/M, Scene: William's Dream (Warlock), The Inherent Consent Issues Of Being Severely Repressed, dubcon blowjob in the dream sequence, religious abuse is kind of a theme in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21979963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentconflagration/pseuds/raswillobsession
Summary: William wakes up panting, shivering, sweating. His hands are white-knuckled fists in the sheet below. He can still feel the soft heat of Erasmus at his back, and he still feels like he's drowning. How could his own mind have done that? How depraved is he?He does the one thing any good man would do in this situation -- he prays.Yet another Dream Fic because I'm RasWill trash.
Relationships: Erasmus/William of Neath (Warlock)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 67
Collections: Slow Show Metaverse, Warlock fic





	Most Grievous Fault

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lurlur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/gifts).



He's in a forest. He can't quite remember how he got here. It must be well after nightfall, considering how wholly hushed the forest has become. 

It's darker than he's ever remembered it being. The darkness seems a living force, a rolling mist, oozing out of the spaces between trees to brush past his cloak while he's turned the other way. The moon shines overhead, illuminating nothing but the patch of earth William stands on. He can't remember ever feeling quite this alone in the forest, not in all the months they've been on the run. If it hasn't been Erasmus by his side, it's been Julia, or Joshua, or one of the many many people who keep unexpectedly lending them a hand at just the right time. Just enough so they can keep going.

But tonight he's completely alone. There's an ache at the base of his throat where it meets his collarbones, like a warning. It's not right for a person to be this alone, not out here, not with the black ink of the forest folding in around him like this. 

Ahead of him, the dark splits, like a tear in a curtain. Out of the blackness comes more blackness-- but this is familiar. Black shirt, black trousers, black glasses even in the blackness of a night like tonight. He's never been more relieved to see anyone.

Erasmus gives him a smile that doesn't quite approach a grin. It's something friendlier, a joke that he invites William to be in on. 

"All alone in the woods, priest?" he asks. "What brings you out here?"

William doesn't answer. His mouth opens, but nothing in particular comes out. He doesn't know.

Erasmus takes a step forward, into the circle of moonlight. It illuminates the clean lines of his face, all angles and edges, a knife's edge. For someone who makes his living lulling people into a false sense of security, there's still so much about him that never lets you forget he's dangerous. His sallow eyes flash in the darkness. His glance is predatory and demanding. But it's a kind of glance that invites William to be dangerous with him. 

William swallows. He's still several feet outside of Erasmus's reach, but he finds himself backing away anyway. His back makes contact with a tree, and a knob hits him squarely between the shoulders, knocking the breath out of him. 

"Erasmus," he says stupidly, once he can speak.

Erasmus's only response is to nod. His footsteps make no sound as he continues to close in on William. It's as if the inky blackness around them is swallowing up all sound along with sight. 

Erasmus is so close that William can feel his breath. 

The knot behind him digs into his shoulder blades. He raises his hands, the backs of them scraping the barks of the tree, as if in a gesture of surrender. Ever so slowly, Erasmus places his hands against William's, entwining his long, spindly fingers with William's plump ones. The heat of his body presses all along William's-- a soft, inviting warmth. It's the most dangerous thing William has ever faced.

One of Erasmus's hands descends to cup William's jaw. It's the softest he's ever been touched. Each thin finger maps out the shape of his face, as if Erasmus is committing it to memory, or imbuing it with significance. He's never meant anything until now.

Erasmus presses close again, and despite his skinny frame he's crushing William against the tree. William is brittle, about to break under the pressure.

And then Erasmus's lips are on his, burning him with the contact. His hands are all over William's body, running through his hair, sliding down his side, teasing into the space between shirt and trousers. William is terrified. 

He makes a noise that could be pleasure or pain. He makes a noise that will be enough, when he's trying to scrub this from his memory tomorrow, to convince himself that he tried to get Erasmus to stop. He knows how deeply wrong this is. This is covered in sin. 

Erasmus's hands hurt him wherever they touch. He's carrying his guilt in every muscle, every bone, and they all protest this transgression. Erasmus's hand slips into William's trousers, and it burns him. Everything is burning. 

Erasmus trails his hand over the curve of William's belly, and slowly, sinuously sinks to his knees. Nothing compares to this sensation: not the finest wine, the richest silk, the most exquisite confectionery. William's body is a language that no one but Erasmus has ever read.

Erasmus unlaces his trousers and pulls William into the heat of his mouth. It's all William can do to throw his head back against the tree and jerk into the soft heat of him. Erasmus is burning him up. Every place he touches will be a scar William will carry forever. He cries out the name of his dearest friend, the sound ripping from his throat and echoing into the silence. 

Erasmus looks up and pulls away. His hands cup William's hips, ever so gently. "Is this alright?" he asks, and of course it's not alright. It's so far from alright that William can't tell in which direction. 

William shakes his head, his hand closing to a fist in Erasmus's hair. "Please ... please don't stop."

Erasmus doesn't. William is being consumed again, and his pulse gathers in the small of his back, tenses hard enough to shock his entire body ...

William wakes up panting, shivering, sweating. His hands are white-knuckled fists in the sheet below. He can still feel the soft heat of Erasmus at his back, and he still feels like he's drowning. How could his own mind have done that? How depraved is he?

Surely, it's a vision from the devil. It could only have been sent from hell, a temptation to take advantage of his sick, sinful nature. 

He does the one thing any good man would do in this situation -- he prays.

_Deus meus, ex toto corde pænitet me omnium meorum peccatorum, eaque detestor, quia peccando, non solum pœnas a te iuste statutas promeritus sum, sed præsertim quia offendi te, summum bonum, ac dignum qui super omnia diligaris...._

<O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of Hell, but especially because they offend Thee, my God, Who art all good and deserving of all my love....>

He shifts on the mattress, trying to will himself soft. But it's a mistake, he wakes Erasmus, can hear him shift as he's startled awake.

"William?" Erasmus says. His voice is low with sleep but also laced with tension.

"What's wrong?" He puts his hand on William's arm, and William says the words of the prayer ever more desperately. 

_Ideo firmiter propono, adiuvante gratia tua, de cetero me non peccaturum peccandique occasiones proximas fugiturum. Amen._

<I firmly intend, with the help of Thy Grace, to do penance, to sin no more, and to amend my life. Amen.>

The hand on his arm is warm, and soft, and everything that Erasmus shouldn't represent for him. William surrenders his will to the prayer. So long as he can keep speaking, and concentrate on that, he can block out how much he wants to turn around and let Erasmus embrace him, soak up all his worry and kindness and affection. So much more affection than he is allowed to take.

_Deus meus..._

Erasmus makes a worried noise and shifts his hand on William's arm. If William wasn't in his right mind, he could almost call it a caress. He flinches like he's been burned.

_Ideo firmiter propono..._

Erasmus huffs. He takes his hand away and turns around again. "Fine, be that way. I'm just telling you you're acting really weird. Even for a priest."

William exhales. He wants to cry, but he really doesn't want Erasmus to see that.

_Deus meus..._

It takes several more recitations, but finally, his pulse stops racing, his skin is no longer burning. "I apologize for my odd behavior," he tells Erasmus quietly.

Erasmus is definitely scrutinizing him. 

"I simply wished to finish saying my morning prayers," he lies.

"Whatever, priest." Erasmus stands and chucks a bundle of day clothes at William. "We've got an early start this morning."

* * *

_One year and eight months later_

"I'm sorry," William says. His hands are in Erasmus's hair as they lie together, seeking warmth against the chill of the woods. Julia and Joshua are already asleep, and certainly William isn't going to do anything that might wake them up, but this is enough for now. Every so often Erasmus's lips brush his, reminders of just how in love he is with this man. 

That would be enough, but this guilt has been burning in his chest for months now.

"Sorry for what?" Erasmus doesn't quite sit up, but he props himself up on his elbow to acknowledge, at least, that this is a slightly more serious conversation.

William would be wringing his hands if they weren't currently cradling his lover. "I didn't trust you. When you took Joshua and left, you were counting on me to trust you and I didn't. You were very nearly hurt. I put you in danger." He takes a breath to steady his voice. "And it's not just that, you know that as well as I do. It took me so long to extend you the respect and trust that you deserve. I made you wait for me for so long, because I was too caught up in what I believed to be right to see what was truly right." He presses his face against Erasmus's shoulder.

Erasmus cups his face, gentle as always. "It's not like I don't understand ..." 

"I failed you," William whispers miserably. "What must I do to make amends?" _My fault, my fault, my most grievous fault._

A touch of anger finally enters Erasmus's tone, but it's not directed at William. "Do you think you have to get on your knees and say ten Hail Marys? You don't have to grovel. I already know you don't think like that any more." He brings his hand up to cup William's jaw, moving his thumb over William's lips. "I'm not the church," he says softly. 

"I'm sorry for all the terrible things I imagined you doing that I know you would never do," William murmurs into his shoulder. "You didn't deserve that."

"Water under the bridge, priest."

"I love you."

"I know."

William falls asleep in Erasmus's arms.

**Author's Note:**

> If we don't get a real kiss between these two I WILL riot.


End file.
